

The Best of People 

And Other Short Stories 

By 

MARGARET B. SMITH 

W 

Revised by Dorothy Starr Dinsmore 



Published by 

THE WESTBROOK PUBLISHING COMPANY 
1217 Market Street Philadelphia, Pa. 





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* 4 

• ^ 
• ♦ • 


FEB 24 (922 


©riA653893 




Contents 

Page 

The Best of People 

5 

The Return 

13 

Romance and Martha Pennypacker. . . 

15 

Charity 

19 

The Clown 

. 21 

i«r 





^0 Mv ilott)er 

tKfjeSe stories 

^re Hobinglp IDetiicateti 

— The Author 


The Best of People 


5 


The Best of People 

A Satire in Four Chapters 
Chapter I 

ESLIE PERRY was one of those poor 
unfortunate creatures who are born of 
selfish and worldly mothers. Girls who 
are taught from childhood, that money is 
the greatest of powers. Girls who are 
brought up with the one idea that luxury and 
pleasure are the most essential things of life, and 
that to obtain them, one must possess both beauty 
and brains. 

Leslie at nineteen was certainly pretty, small and 
slim and vivid. She had tawny hair and very 
engaging blue eyes. Her cheeks were naturally 
pink, and her lips full and red as a ripe cherry. But 
above all, Leslie was clever. Her mother had 
schooled her daughter along certain lines and care- 
fully drilled her through long lessons of social graces. 
Leslie was warned not to forget for a single moment 
that she was a Palmer Perry, or that her great- 
grandfather had helped sign the Declaration of 
Independence. 

As a youngster, Leslie had been a rather nice 
little thing, sweet tempered and very democratic. 
Once she had been caught dividing a cookie with 
the laundress' daughter, and again giving her gold 
beads to the window-cleaning man. 

Mrs. Perry saw to it, however, that when the 
girl Leslie made her bow to society she was a cold- 
hearted, extremely self-contained young person. 

Leslie's coming out party was a great success, 
and was followed by a brilliant, eventful winter at 



6 


The Best of People 


Palm Beach. Mrs. Perry kept open house there, 
and watched with approval the popularity of her 
only child. Leslie was, indeed, doing credit to her 
training now; she encouraged but the richest and 
most desirable of her suitors — and, especially, Billy 
Ballord did she favor. 

Billy had not merely a fine family tree to display. 
He had golden dollars and a very bright future in 
business with his father. William Ballord, Sr., was 
president of the Ballord Rubber & Tire Works, and 
Billy was sole heir to the family millions. 

Mrs. Perry remarked to her husband one day: 

“Mr. Ballord is so attentive to Leslie, my dear. 

I do think that it will end in a match before long. 
They are so devoted to one another."" 

Mr. Perry, a very blunt little man, with a red 
face and bald head, replied quite nastily: 

“Leslie"s devoted to his father"s bank account 
you mean, Clara. Well, all I can say is that it"s 
about time she got another lunch ticket to go by. 
I"m pretty nearly in bankruptcy, myself, with her 
dressmaker"s bills and florist"s charges coming in 
regularly. That girl is some expensive proposition 
to keep up, believe me!"" 

Mrs. Perry ignored this purely spiteful remark. 

“Mr. Ballord is very thoughtful of me, too,"" 
she purred at length. “Of all the young men that 
come to the house, he"s quite the nicest one, George."" 

George did not look at all impressed. He 
merely grunted and chewed the end of his cigar 
viciously. 

“For heaven sakes, Clara, don"t call that string 
bean a man! Why, without his father"s influence he 
couldn"t get a position anywhere."" 

Mrs. George Palmer Perry"s pride would permit 
her to remain no longer and listen to such gross 


The Best of People 


7 


insults. She rose to her feet and sailed majestically 
across the room. 

Mr. Perry's jeering words followed her through 
the door. 

“ I pity the poor chap if he marries our daughter. 
Leslie'll sure lead him a song and a dance." 

In the parlor, Mrs. Perry encountered the object 
of the discussion and her daughter. 

At a glance, Mr. Billy Ballord appeared to be 
all arms, legs and necktie. He was a tall youth 
and pitifully thin, with mild brown eyes, behind 
large gold-rimmed spectacles. Billy's claim to atten- 
tion lay solely through his father's money. Mr. 
Perry was entirely right on that point. Billy was 
too shy and unimposing to cut much of a figure 
anywhere by himself. While at school, he was the 
class goat and nicknamed “Rubberneck" by his 
playmates who, nevertheless, all liked him thoroughly 
despite the fact he was generally thought to be a 
little “queer" at times. 

Leslie spoke to her mother briskly. 

“Billy has just asked me to become his wife." 
Billy advanced a step forward and cleared his 
throat. 

“I know I can make your daughter happy," he 
said very shyly, glancing at Leslie adoringly. 

“We have decided on September," Leslie pro- 
ceeded, for of the two she was boss and usually did 
Billy's thinking for him. “We will be married 
from our church in Yonkers and have a reception 
afterward from our own home. Not a large wedding, 
mother, just a few of the most select people." 

“Certainly dear." Mrs. Perry was very well 
pleased indeed by the arrangenent. Leslie's mar- 
riage to Billy Ballord would mean a feather in her 
cap socially. 


8 


The Best of People 


“1 had thought of a little home or apartment in 
the city/" Billy began bashfully, “for Leslie and 
I won"t be entertaining much at first, you know/" 

He pictured as he spoke, Leslie and himself alone 
together in a cozy little house. Leslie, all in white, 
presiding at the breakfast table, and pouring out 
his coffee for him. 

“Nonsense dear,"" Leslie said firmly. “You do 
have the queerest ideas, Billy! We"ll live at the 
Biltmore in the winter and go to Bar Harbor for 
the summer months. A house is entirely too much 
trouble to run these days."" 

Billy sighed submissively and when he finally 
took his departure, Leslie remarked irritably to 
her mother: 

“ I wish he was not so dreadfully plain and 
old-fashioned. Imagine mother, Billy expected me 
to actually make a slave of myself keeping house 
for him!"" 

Mrs. Perry replied sagely nodding her head: 

‘‘You"ve good control of him, my dear; there"s 
no need for worry while Billy is so deeply in love 
with you."" 

“Oh yes,"" Leslie smiled slightly. “But I do 
get so tired of him sometimes. Why could not 
Rodney Blake or someone interesting have had his 
money, I"d like to know?"" 

Chapter II 

When Billy Ballord told his father that he was 
going to marry Leslie Perry, the older man shook 
his head and looked very grave indeed. 

“That girl may be all right, understand me, 
Lucy,"" he said to his pretty, gentle little wife, 
“but I have my doubts as to what kind of a wife 
she"ll be."" 


The Best of Peoph 


William Ballord, Sr., was like his son, an old- 
fashioned character. He cared little for display 
or the so-called smart society and was devoted to 
his home and family. A good, honest, upright man 
who stood frankly and proudly for all that was best; 
this was Billy's father. 

I'm sure, daddy, Leslie is a competent and 
sensible girl," Mrs. Ballord ventured, ‘‘and Billy 
is certainly fond of her. She's very pretty and has 
charming manners." The little woman hesitated 
for a moment. ‘‘Perhaps, she can bring Billy out 
more after they are married. The boy is so shy 
and ill at ease before people." 

'That's all right, mother," Mr. Ballord said 
in his big, hearty voice. “Billy may be a bit raw, 
but he gets there just the same, you notice. He 
may not be a lady killer, but I'm mighty proud of 
him just the same, for he's a fine wholesome lad." 

“And he won Leslie," Mrs. Ballord said with 
eager eyes, “after she had refused several very 
good-looking young chaps, Rodney Blake and Jack 
Harrison, for instance." 

Mr. Ballord remained silent. He knew that 
Leslie Perry did not love his plain, simple-hearted 
son. The girl was a mixture of conscious cleverness 
and inherent conceit. She wanted plenty of money 
and a free hand to do what she pleased with it. 

Again William Ballord shook his head. He 
knew more of the world and the world's ways than 
did honest, trusting Billy. 

Chapter III 

The wedding was a great social event. The 
Perry house in Yonkers, a huge stone edifice which 
passersby often mistook for a memorial building, 
was thrown open to entertain some of the country's 
best people. 


The Best of People 


10 


Leslie made a very pretty bride, and the reception 
that followed the ceremony was a grand affair 
where there were more footmen than guests and 
more splendor than comfort. 

Mrs. Perry was cordiality itself; she seemed to 
be everywhere at once, giving orders to the caterers, 
attending to her guests" needs and receiving new 
and late arrivals. 

The only person who did not appear to be enjoy- 
ing himself was the bridegroom. Poor Billy was 
on tenterhooks. He was hot and uncomfortable 
in his dress suit and very bashful and ill at ease. 
He danced two dances with Leslie and spent the 
rest of the evening backed against the wall, watching 
his butterfly wife go by in the arms of others. Leslie 
was a good dancer. She had been taught the latest 
steps before her alphabet as a child. On the other 
hand Billy had always detested dancing school. 
He had never been popular with the girls there, 
although they had certainly been nice to him, and 
had laughed only behind his back at the numerous 
blunders he had made. 

Mrs. Perry came up to her son-in-law once 
during the evening. 

“Why are you not dancing, Billy?"" she inquired, 
and he looked at her miserably. 

“ I — I can"t very well, and I"d rather stay here 
and watch the rest of them,"" he replied lamely. 

And so passed Billy"s wedding night. 

Chapter IV 

January found the Billy Ballords established in 
their new home, a suite of rooms at the hotel Bilt- 
more. Leslie insisted on having a bedroom, bath 
and boudoir to herself, and Billy gladly gave them 


The Best of Peopk 


11 


to her. Then, again, Leslie wanted a Rolls-Royce 
and an ermine opera cloak. 

Certainly dear. Til see about them at once,"' 
Billy promised her, and Leslie kissed him and 
declared that he was the dearest boy in the world. 

Roddy Blake is going to the theatre with us 
tonight," Leslie informed him. “So please stop 
at the box office and get another ticket for him on 
your way home from the office." 

A shadow passed over Billy's face, but it was 
gone in a minute. He wished that Leslie would 
not invite Rodney Blake to accompany them every- 
where they went. Roddy, of course, was a nice 
enough fellow, but somehow or other, Billy never 
felt the least bit comfortable when he was around. 
He reminded him of a woman, did Roddy, with his 
soft purring voice and small manicured hands. 
Roddy was always dressed in the height of fashion 
and reeked of perfume and talcum powder. He 
had never made a dollar in his life and was con- 
tinually being shown off at teas and at card parties. 

“ I really had to ask him, for he was coming here 
to dinner anyway," Leslie said somewhat pettishly. 

“That's all right dear, I don't mind in the least," 
Billy lied amiably, and Leslie as she looked into his 
homely, pleasant face, felt a sudden glow of affection 
for him. 

“We'll accept your mother's invitation for dinner 
tomorrow evening and not go to the Cunningham 
dance," she said impulsively, and Billy set off 
for the office with a very light heart, indeed. 

All day long he thought of her, and many times 
did he glance at her picture which was on his desk 
inclosed in a pretty silver frame. 

Late that afternoon, although very tired, he 
stopped at the florist's and bought a bouquet of 
orchids for Leslie to wear that night. 


12 


The Best of People 


“They'll go beautifully with my lavender gown," 
Leslie declared with enthusiasm when she opened 
the box. 

“Billy, you are a dear fellow!" And she spoke 
with sincerity. In her mind, Leslie compared Rodney 
with Billy. Roddy was certainly polished and a 
perfect dancer, but Billy was honorable, and his 
unselfishness and devotion to her were sterling 
qualities that she knew few men possessed. 

That evening, they went to a cafe nearby, and 
Leslie and Roddy soon succumbed to the bewitching 
languor of the music, the heavy fragrance of many 
flowers. The floor was perfect, the rhythm inviting, 
Roddy a perfect dancer. Billy as usual sat quietly 
watching his wife, moving gracefully about the 
floor in the arms of another man. 

Suddenly in the middle of a waltz that she was 
enjoying immensely, Leslie stopped short. Roddy 
turned, following her astonished stare. Billy — meek 
and awkward, Billy — the wall-flower, Billy — the 
woman hater, Billy was gliding smoothly between 
the other couples, his long arm encircling the waist 
of a tiny, fluffy-haired vision. She was smiling 
up at him, and he seemed not at loss for pretty 
compliments. 

Roddy and Leslie looked at each other won- 
deringly. 

“And even the Best of People! " 



The Return 


13 


The Return 

LD RALSTON lived on the outskirts of a 
New England village in a small frame 
cottage, of a very dilapidated appearance. 
It stood back from the road and was 
almost hidden from view by thick bushes 
and hanging ivy. The lawn that it overlooked, 
if indeed it may be called such, was full of weeds, 
and the grass had not been cut for years. 

Old Ralston's son John had been the last person 
to trim it, some four years previous. He had 
enlisted when war had been declared and had been 
reported one of the first to fall in far-away France. 

When John had left home, a tall, fine-looking 
youth of twenty-three, town folks had said that 
he carried his father's heart with him. And it was 
quite true, they had declared later at the time of 
the erection of the monument in John's honor, that 
old Ralston's heart had died with his son. 

Old Ralston was blind, a mere ghost of a man 
with a thin white face and wide staring, sightless 
eyes, a man who went hobbling about on a cane, 
mourning continually for what had been the greatest 
thing in his starved, dark life. Neighbors pitied 
him, and also feared him, children regarded him 
with curiosity and awe. There were those who 
thought him to be insane, and still others who made 
fun of the shabby old figure. 

Poor old man Ralston 1 

Then, there came a night when a stranger arrived 
in town, a tall, young form in a great fur coat and 
muffler, with a cap pulled down far over his face. 
The stranger betook himself quickly to the home of 



14 


The Return 


old Ralston, and knocked upon the weather-beaten 
door. Presently, the knock was answered by the 
little gray man, who asked, “Who's there? I haven't 
money to buy anything, if that is what you want." 

The stranger replied, with a queer little smile 
on his lips, “I don't want to sell you anything." 

The voice to old Ralston sounded strangly 
familiar. He put one hand out and felt the stranger's 
coat. Then he groped around and touched the face. 
“Do I know you?" he said in a puzzled tone. 

The stranger steadied the tottering figure with 
one strong arm. “I have news for you," he re- 
sponded. “Of your son — John." 

There was a long silence. The sightless eyes 
of old man Ralston seemed to regard the stranger, 
and to discern in the darkness. “Is it John?" 
the question was low, imperative and sustained. 

“It is John, father!" and he was aware that the 
old man's lips were moving unconsciously and 
forming words. 

“You have come back after all! God is so 
good, so very good!" 

Inside the still and dim room, John removed the 
muffler and cap. He glanced at his father. The 
old man was smiling for he could not see his son's 
face. The great war had left its mark upon it, and 
so had months of suffering and pain. The face 
that had once been so good to look upon was now 
horribly scarred and disfigured. 

A blessing that old Ralston was blind ! God 
is so good. 


Romance and Martha Pennypacker /5 


Romance and Martha Pennypacker 

I 

ARTHA PENNYPACKER, sitting alone 
on her little veranda toward the end of a 
June day, came suddenly to the con- 
viction that she had missed the greatest 
thing in life — Romance. She had lived 
forty-three long years and had not experienced to 
the present day, a single sensation or thrill. Her 
existence had been one of the utmost serenity and 
Martha now most fervently wished that something 
would happen to disturb the calm and placid waters 
of her life. 

Martha Pennypacker knew little of the world 
and the world's ways, but she had rather a vague 
sort of notion that if romance or adventure did not 
come to find her, she would go in search of them. 
She was quite determined, at any rate, not to remain 
a spinster in a small town all the rest of her life, 
if she could help it. She was approaching middle 
age at a dangerous rate, but her hair was still brown, 
and her skin unwrinkled and her sense of humor 
keen and unspoiled. 

Martha thought these things over, and her 
determination grew to dig a little joy and excitement 
out of the old world. 

The paper boy presently delivered to her the 
weekly journal that reached Portlow, Wyoming, some 
time later than its New York publication, but was, 
nevertheless, fully enjoyed by the residents of the 
sleepy little western town. 

Martha seized upon it eagerly and devoured its 
pages of scandal, sentiment and tragedy most 
hungrily. Then she turned to the advertisements 



16 Romance and Martha Pennypackcr 


and read of the wonders performed by La Belle 
complexion cream and De Luxe face powder. The 
Personal column finally claimed her attention and 
her eyes sought the following: 

“A young gentleman of wealth and culture 
desires to correspond with a young lady who might 
have some thoughts of matrimony in the near 
future. Address reply and photograph to Captain 
Eri Price, P. O. box 120, Manchester, Rhode Island."" 

She studied it carefully, read and reread it 
until the words were stamped indelibly upon her 
memory. Her heart was beating furiously for she 
had decided to banish her foremost ideas of dis- 
cretion and to enter the field of adventure. 

Martha Pennypacker, a timid and highly 
respected spinster of Portlaw, sat down to her desk 
and with great pains and much consideration com- 
posed a reply. It was brief, but explicit, and her 
heart thrilled as she finally placed a picture of 
herself at twenty into the envelope and sealed and 
mailed it. 

Martha wondered as she did so whether it would 
mean fate or fortune to her. 

II 

Captain Price received numerous replies from 
unknown, but eager applicants. He singled Mar- 
tha"s letter out from among the many he had received 
as being most sincere and straightforward. It ap- 
pealed to him strongly, and Martha would doubt- 
lessly have been surprised had she been able to see 
the eagerness with which he read it. 

It was with a tinge of regret that Captain Price 
gazed fondly at her likeness and realized that he 
was no longer a young man and the absurdity of the 
situation he had brought upon himself. He had 


Romance and Martha Pennypackci 


17 


written the advertisement in a fit of loneliness. 
Now, he regretted the step he had taken. 

Eri Price was a retired sea captain. He was a 
man well up in his forties, stalwart and reliable, who 
had neglected the greater things of life to pursue the 
career of his forefathers. 

There was still enough sportsmanship about the 
captain to see the matter to the finish, so he promptly 
responded to Martha's missive with spirit. It was 
a whole-souled letter that he wrote her and it brought 
a reply that increased his admiration and stimulated 
his interest. 

And so it was that two lonely creatures, hundreds 
of miles apart, founded a romance upon total mis- 
understanding. 

Martha lived in constant fear lest the prince 
charming of her dreams discover her deception. 
And Captain Price who had never before feared the 
roughest of the seas, began to feel rather uneasy 
about the turn of events. Finally, after serious 
deliberation he gained sufficient courage to wire the 
girl he loved that he was coming to claim her as 
his own. 

Ill 

Martha Pennypacker was aflutter with fear and 
excitement the day of Eri's anticipated arrival. 
She had not yet told him that she was no longer the 
debonair maid of twenty that he believed her to 
be. She was afraid to apprise him of the fact, for 
fear it would be the culmination of the romance 
of which she had so long dreamed. 

Twilight had already fallen when the sound of 
carriage wheels on the road sent her hurrying to 
the door. A sudden panic seized her as she saw 
the vehicle draw up to her gate and the tall figure 


18 Romance and Martha Pennypackcr 


of Captain Price emerge from it. He swung up the 
walk, and in a moment was on the veranda. 

Martha, trembling, faced him. She saw instead 
of the youthful hero of her imagination, the kindly 
weather-beaten face of a man who was undoubtedly 
several years her senior. 

And Captain Price found himself gazing at a 
charming woman who still possessed some of the 
rare freshness and beauty of her girlhood. 

No explanations were necessary! Both Martha 
and Eri were gloriously happy and they turned arm 
in arm and entered the house together. 

“We" re a little late in beginning,"" Captain Price 
said in his booming voice, “but I calculate that 
won"t hurt matters anyhow, now that our romance 
has a good start."" 



Charity 


19 


Charity 

OHN CLARKE, as he walked to church 
that morning along the familiar, little 
path that led by Cranton Hollow and 
the orchard, was conscious of a new 
feeling of great exhilaration. He felt 
younger and better than he had in years. His 
usually pale face was flushed, and his eyes had lost 
their look of tiredness and depression. 

It was Christmas Day, but that was not the 
reason for John's great happiness and peace of 
mind. This Sunday was the last of his ministry in 
the little village church at Stoneleigh. He was 
going to the city that afternoon, and was leaving 
behind him very sad and unpleasant memories. 
The people had misunderstood him, and from the 
first, had regarded with eyes of disapproval the 
plain, sensitive, shabby man. 

John had been gentle and patient during those 
months of hardship. He had struggled along on a 
mere pittance of a salary, and now he was about to 
receive his just reward. He had been offered the 
position of rector in a large, prominent city church. 
He knew that this new congregation would under- 
stand him and be with him. Stoneleigh was ignorant 
and unappreciative. The town folks lounged into 
church, some from force of habit, others because 
they considered it their duty, and wished to be 
prepared for eternity, and the world to come. 

John, when he mounted the pulpit some time 
later, faced them, quietly smiling. 

“This morning, although it is Christmas, I am 
going to speak to you on the eighth verse of the 
thirteenth chapter. First Corinthians, ‘Charity never 



20 


Charity 


faileth; but whether there be prophecies, they shall 
fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; 
whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away/ '' 

The congregation moved uneasily in their seats. 
The man before them, shabby and unimposing 
though he was, now commanded their strict atten- 
tion. 

“Charity means. Peace on earth. Good will to 
men,"' John said, and his eyes were shining, and 
his voice very low and firm. Those who listened 
lowered their eyes, and wished they had not come. 

Here was a new John, not the sensitive, shrinking 
John of old. This was not the man whom they had 
sneered at, and criticized so harshly, the man whose 
life they had made so miserable. 

“And now abideth Faith, Hope, and Charity, 
these three; but the greatest of these is Charity."' 

Charity! The word rang in the congregation's 
ears as they hurried out of the church. They 
carried with them a picture that would never fade 
from their minds. It was of a little man with a pale, 
careworn face, and mild blue eyes. A man who 
had suffered at their hands, but who in turn had 
taught them the Golden Rule, and a lesson in human 
kindness. 



The Clown 


21 


The Clown 

“//e who grins in clown s disguise. 

Often hides an aching heart. 

Sadness, sometimes, worldly wise. 

Dresses for a motley part. 

Song and hells to cheat the ears, 

Chall^ and paint to hide the tears.'* 

Robert W. Chambers. 

E WAS billed as Timento, the flying clown, 
but his friends had him nicknamed Tiny 
Tim. He was a pleasant little chap, quiet 
and sensitive, and always with a smile or 
kind word for everyone. 

Big “Dan'" Mallony, the manager of the Burton 
Brothers' Three Ring Circus, had Timento brought 
from Italy to Canada, where the show was playing a 
season of twenty-three weeks under canvas. 

Timento's home on the shores of sunny Italy 
had been a particularly pleasant one, although the 
family was poor, and there had been a lot of younger 
brothers and sisters to be fed, clothed and schooled. 
Then, there was Rosetta, Timento's sweetheart, 
who had promised to wait for him; and some day 
Timento expected to return to her, very rich. His 
greatest dream was to build for Rosetta, the fairy- 
footed and gay of heart, a beautiful castle where 
they could live alone happily together. 

Timento did not like America, nor did he like 
the hustle and bustle of circus life. He was true to 
his native land, and the demeanor of cheerfulness 
was entirely assumed. He longed for the day when 
he could say good-bye to the trapeze, and grease 
paint and artifice of it all, and go to Rosetta — and 
his old home. 



22 


The Clown 


Late one afternoon, Big “Dan"" sent for Timento, 
and talked to him very sympathetically. 

“ Lm sorry, chappie, but Tve got bad news for 
you,"" he said, and Timento saw that he held in his 
hand a letter edged in black. 

“ Lve opened it, and your mother writes that 
Rosetta died last month."" 

Timento crept away into his tent, threw himself 
on his hard, little cot, and began to cry very quietly, 
but with the heart-breaking intensity of a lonely 
child. 

Several hours later, he prepared to hide his 
tears beneath a coat of red and white paint. He 
faced an audience of merrymakers who laughed 
and clapped as he mounted a great bar from which 
he was to throw himself onto a nearby trapeze. 

The audience yelled their approval, and then 
held their breath. 

Timento with the speed of lightning leaped into 
the air, made no effort to catch the swing, and 
dropped a hundred feet to the ground below. 

When they picked up the poor mangled form 
and washed the paint from his face, they saw a 
smile on his features — a smile of great contentment. 

Tiny Tim had gone to join Rosetta. 



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